


Who's Yo Daddy

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Pairing is not the main focus of the story, at all, despite title is not very porny, filled with headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emergencies and shortages began to surface in Overwatch due to the sudden rise of people out for their bounties, and things turn from bad to worse when McCree was shot during a risky mission, and in need of blood transfusion. This leads to a group wide search for a potential donor, which saved the resident gunslinger and also reveals a secret nobody, least of all McCree, was prepared for.</p><p>In which accident is the key word in this story, and the nickname 'mi hijo' apparently had a double meaning, much to McCree’s chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Yo Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Note: It was based by a headcanon(?) somewhere that McCree is at least part latino, even though the name McCree in itself is of Irish origins. And i love it every time someone put such a father and son dynamic between Gabe and Jesse so i just thought, what if. Then the thought struck me and i don’t care if it’s not canon, if it’s not aligned with the canon, or even if it defies and bastardies canon. It’s just so, so fitting to me. Someone probably already done it, i don’t know. But I have to write this. 
> 
>  
> 
> And if you are reading, thank you and hope you enjoy my sudden inspiration.

It was an accident. All of the events leading to this moment were all accidents.

 

 

McCree wanted to punch the person who said that it all probably begin with an accident, anyway, until he realized he himself was the one who said it. He got dirty looks from Angela when he made good of his threat.

 

 

“Stop punching yourself,” the blonde woman scolded, knocking his fist away from his cheek, “You’re wounded enough as it is, McCree, you don’t need anymore injuries. _I_ can’t afford to treat any more injuries with our supply the way it is,”

 

 

True, the cabinet right next to her desk was a sad sight, so depleted from any sort of healing equipment when it was usually filled to the brim and categorised alphabetically. If one is to wonder to their kitchen, armoury and dining hall, the same sight will appear as well. 

 

 

After a rather spectacular battle that caused a crater the size of King’s Row - which may or may not include Roadhog, Junkrat and a hell lot of improvised C4 - in England, United Nations were particularly eager to get their hands on them, and that launched a wave of hunters, armies and private armies particularly eager to get some of the rewards the UN promised for each and every of their heads.

 

 

Thus, Overwatch had been keeping lowkey, so low that none of them had surfaced for the last couple of weeks. The situation is starting to die down, according to Mei, one of their more inconspicuous faces in their team who was sent out to scout the news, and Athena had even announced that she will try to immediately refill their rapidly dwindling supplies.

 

 

It was all fine, until McCree, too tired from being inside of locked inside of their headquarter in Nepal, wanted to take a walk, and attracted the attention of a group of hunters who were also nearby.

 

 

He wasn’t even wearing his cowboy gears! How did they know?!

 

 

The group was easily dispatched the moment the other members received a distressed signal, but the damage was done; in his attempt to escape, one of the hunter got lucky and shot him. It wasn’t a particularly vital injury, but usually they - Angela, really - had the means and resources to cure them. Now, she only had her staff to rely on and meagre means of medical supplies, which is apparently not enough for a gunshot wound, of all things.

 

 

And then, there was the amount of blood he lost.

 

 

With no supply, it had been the hardest challenge for Angela, and in the end, she settled by searching through the Overwatch database. In her frantic state, Angela didn’t notice that she had commanded Athena to search the sample not only including the current roster, but the ones from the previous Overwatch.

 

 

The good news was, apparently McCree’s blood type is common enough to find, and between Lucio, Zarya and Satya, he was saved. 

 

 

The bad news was, there was someone else from the database that matched his blood type, his DNA and genetics.

 

 

Tired from the entire ordeal, the good doctor excused herself with a stern warning to McCree not to ‘do anything stupid’, leaving McCree all alone in the makeshift medical bay in the Nepal headquarters. With her gone, the cowboy sighed, picked up his hat and slammed it to his head, causing rather sharp pain to his skull. 

 

 

He didn’t care.

 

 

Besides, how could you worry about something else after finding out that your ex-commander turned enemy turns out to be your own flesh and blood?

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Go away,”

 

 

“Don’t be like that, Jesse,”

 

 

“Go away, Ana,”

 

 

“Now you’re just being downright rude,”

 

 

Sighing, the brunet looked up from where he had planted his face on his knees, to see Ana approaching him, and Morrison a few feet behind her, looking apprehensive. McCree pressed his lips to a thin line, and pointedly look away when Ana sat next to him. He heard her sigh, “Jesse—“

 

 

“You knew,”

 

 

The Egyptian woman didn’t answer, but she put a hand on his shoulder, gentle and motherlike, “Honestly, i don’t. I’ve only known today, just like everyone else,” she told him firmly, and that made McCree turn his attention to her. She was looking at him grimly, and the wrinkled hand on his shoulder tightened its hold, “If i had known, Jesse, i would have made Gabe take you off from Blackwatch, and you know it,”

 

 

She had been pretty adamant as not to let Fareeha become too involved into Overwatch back then. He always thought it was because she was too young, but Fareeha had told him that even now at 32 years old, there are times Ana still tries to persuade her from this life and into a normal one. It was just a motherly instinct to protect their children.

 

 

But then, the sniper turned around sharply, and McCree couldn’t believe that he just saw Jack Morrison, all around badass and Overwatch’s ex-commander flinched, “However someone,” the old lady thundered suddenly, “owes you some explanation,”

 

 

McCree turned to look at Morrison, back to Ana, then to Morrison, who took off his mask and revealed a sheepish look on his face, his hand falling limply with the visor held weakly in it. Without it, he looked so naked, so exposed, and damn if he’s got a shit poker face because with one look, McCree knows what his guilty expression means, “ _You_ knew,”

 

 

Morrison, to his credit, didn’t try to prolonged the inevitable, “Yes,”

 

 

Right now, he’s pretty sure that Hanzo has taken Peacekeeper, his serape and his armour for cleaning, as he would usually do whenever McCree needed to stay in the medbay. He wished just for once that his diligent boyfriend had forgotten at least one of them, because at least then he’d have an ammo to throw to the son of a bitch’s face.

 

 

He settled by punching the wall next to his bed, which made Ana pat his back in a calming gesture and Morrison to look away, “How could you?!”

 

 

“Gabe didn’t want you to know,” Morrison replied, and his calmness in this whole matter just wanted to make McCree throw a bigger tantrum, “And he told me not to tell,”

 

 

“He told you not to tell?! You knew that _pendejo_ is my fucking father, and you kept me in the dark for 20 fucking years because he told you to?! Fuck you, Morrison!” 

 

 

“Jesse—“

 

 

“We thought it was for the best,”

 

 

“For the best?! So, me finding out i have a fucking father after 30 fucking years because i almost died from blood lost is what’s best for me?!” 

 

 

“That’s enough, Jesse McCree!”

 

 

McCree cursed his current state, because even without Ana shouting over both of them, he didn’t think he’d be able to continue. There’s a dull throbbing pain on his chest, where the injury was, and he took a deep breath, willing it away. The cowboy pointedly look away from the two older figures, “I need to be alone for now,”

 

 

Ana stroked his exposed shoulder, “Jesse—“

 

 

“Please,” he finally said, bringing his knee even closer to his chest and burying his cheek to the crevice, “I need some time alone,”

 

 

He didn’t have to look to see Ana’s disapproving look, but in the end she relented, whispering a soft ‘come on’ to Morrison. It was a while before their footsteps finally faded, and he could hear the sound of the door being closed. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The two veterans walked in tandem through the hallway, their footsteps echoing on the walls. Ana glanced back to where the medbay was, caught the look on Jack’s uncovered face and quipped, “That went well,”

 

 

Jack’s sigh spoke years worth of weariness, “Ana, not now,”

 

 

“Ana, not now,” the woman imitated mockingly, and it was actually a perfect impression that Morrison wasn’t sure if he’s supposed to be irritated or impressed, “You know, _not now_ is probably the word that landed you in this mess right now,”

 

 

“We thought it was the best thing to do,”

 

 

“Well it obviously wasn’t, Jack. Jesse found out and he won’t even look at you in the eye,”

 

 

“Gabe didn’t want him to know,”

 

 

“Oh, and you’re just gonna bend over and do whatever he tells you?” Ana countered, and Jack knew it was meant to be hurtful and the implication had been deliberate. Bastardizing what he used to have with Gabriel, because everyone else in Overwatch might think that his anger towards Reaper had been due to their falling out. But Ana, Ana knows them better, knows them like nobody else, and she knows how to hit where it hurts.

 

 

So Jack kept silent, not even going to pretend it doesn’t hurt because it does. 

 

 

But despite it all, he doesn’t regret it. Yes, Jesse is mad, and yes, he knew Ana would blame him as much as she blamed Gabriel. But Jack knows better, remembered the look on Gabriel’s face when he told him the truth. 

 

 

“Besides, when he found out, what then? Hey, kid, you know me, the guy who beat you to pulp, who drag you from your gang and is now putting you from suicide missions to suicide missions? Well, i’m also your _padre_! Give me a hug, _hijo_!” Gabriel had sarcastically pointed out the first time Jack asked him why he didn’t tell Jesse the truth, “Not gonna explain to the kid he’s an accident and i don’t even know who his mother is, he’s angry enough with the world,”

 

 

Apparently, Jesse’s mother had been a one night stand from when Gabriel was doing a covert operation, and he was in that town long enough to hear the news. He never had the chance to approach her, but he secretly keep tabs, but lost it during the boy’s early adolescence years. He had only resurfaced again when he sat right across of Gabriel in Blackwatch’s interrogation room, where the dark skinned man took one look and realized with dawning horror that the reason why the boy fell out of radar was because he joined an arms dealer gang.

 

 

“But what if he found out?” Jack had asked the same night, “Won’t he be even angrier?”

 

 

“Then he’s gonna be angry. He’s always angry,” there, Gabriel chuckled, a truly warm sound that even Jack scarcely hear, “That’s all me, right there,”

 

 

That was why he never complained about an ex-criminal being placed in Overwatch’s secret op, never say anything when out of all of the operatives Gabriel had paid more attention to Jesse, and he certainly wasn’t going to say anything when Gabriel went and made Jesse his right hand man. He never challenged Gabriel’s decisions when it comes to the teenager he took in, even when everyone else does, and he’s not going to regret now because he knew.

 

 

Jack knew because through nicknames, praises, and small gestures of care, keeping it a secret was killing Gabriel as well.

 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he told Ana instead, “He’ll get over it,”

 

 

Ana’s one eye widened, “Get over it? So, you’re not going to apologize, you’re not going to explain yourself?”

 

 

“It’s not our business, Ana. The only person who shared blood with Jesse is Gabe, not one of us,”

 

 

“But he’s not here, is he? Not here to take any sort of responsibility,”

 

 

“Responsibility— Ana, Jesse’s 37! Stop acting like he’s a kid!”

 

 

“And because of that suddenly i can’t care about it? Morrison, i raised that kid since he was 17! He is practically my son, and i know you cared about him the same way!” she huffed, crossing her arms in defiance, “And apparently, he is literally Gabriel’s son, who is not here, by the way,”

 

 

Jack shook his head, “We are all aware of that,”

 

 

Ana opened her mouth again, but she stopped, and shook her head, “For god’s sake, Jack,” back to his first name. It is clear that all the fight had left Ana this time around, “what he looked like back then reminded me of that lost kid 20 years ago again,”

 

 

“He is that kid from 20 years ago, Ana,” he gently told her, “Only he’s grown up. He doesn’t need adults to hold his hand through every problem anymore. Let him deal with it,” the white-haired man placed his visor back in place, the system turning on once more as the lights began to come back online before his sight, “And i won’t apologize. But i know i do owe him an explanation. When he cooled down, he’ll come looking for him, and i’ll tell him everything he wanted to know,”

 

 

It may not be what she wanted, but Ana seems mollified by this, “You better. He was so angry, Jack,”

 

 

“I know,” Jack smiled, the gesture hidden underneath the mouthguard of his visor, “That’s all Gabe, right there,”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time the door was opened, McCree didn’t even bother acknowledging them, preferring to lay on his side as he had been for the last couple of hours. The newcomer didn’t say a word, and he was getting tired of all of the tip-toeing the other members were doing that he almost lashed out before fingers started threading themselves through his matted locks. He instantly relaxed.

 

 

“Are you done?”

 

 

“No,” the brunet shook his head, tangling the fingers in his hair even more.

 

 

“Alright,” 

 

 

The fingers started moving again, massaging his scalp, scratching and pressing on the right spots. He sighed, “Do you think i’m being unreasonable? You know, for shouting at Morrison like that?”

 

 

There is no way the others didn’t know about it. And judging how the hands stopped for a brief second, that means he is right, “A little,” 

 

 

“It’s just that i’m so mad! I grew up in the orphanage for as long as i could remember, i didn’t have anyone taking care of me until i got into Deadlock. And even then, i only got the others to respect me because i was good at what i do,” The hand now moved to his shoulder, rubbing along the planes in a soothing way not even Ana would be able to, “I’ve been all alone for as long as i can remember, Hanzo. And now, all of the sudden i have a dad and he’s been that close to me?”

 

 

Hanzo’s hand moved from one collarbone to the other, running his palm on McCree’s stubble. The younger man sighed, both for the situation and the treatment, “He’s— dammit, Reyes was the closest thing i had to a father figure,”

 

 

“That does not seems to be something you should be upset about,”

 

 

“No, i’m upset because i still can’t get over that he’s now our enemy, that he’s trying to kill me and he’s literally the worst possible human being right now, and as it turns out, he’s my dad!” He stumbled across the word, but the moment he said it, it all felt too real. Reyes is his father. For fuck’s sake, he has a father all this time, alive and kicking, and it’s Gabriel fucking Reyes, “I mean, how would you feel finding out that your dad’s a crimina— Ouch!“

 

 

The fingers, rough and scarred from archery suddenly stopped caressing his skin and instead pinched his cheek with all it’s might, “Hanzo, what—“ He looked up to see Hanzo giving him a dry glare. The frown on McCree’s face slowly smoothed out when he caught up with his own question, “Oh, right, heir to a yakuza empire. My bad,”

 

 

The older man shook his head in exasperation, but his hands told of a different emotion, the same two offending fingers gently rubbing across the reddening cheek, “I suppose it is not quite the same. I have know since birth what i was prepared for. You, however, found the truth through an incident. I understand your anger,”

 

 

“Ha! See?” Despite himself, McCree grinned, and lifted his head to plop them down on the older man’s lap instead of the hard medbay pillow, “Aw, I knew there is a reason why you’re my favorite Overwatch member,”

 

 

“I believe that in your own words, it was for my flexibility,”

 

 

“Shh, let me be a romantic once in a while,”

 

 

Both men chuckled, before a familiar silence fell over them. McCree’s breathing was particularly heavy, and for a moment, Hanzo thought he had drifted to sleep until arms rounded his waist and pulled him closer to the sprawled figure, “I think i wasn’t— i wasn’t really mad that it was Reyes. He’s an asshole now, well, he’s always been an asshole, that _culo,_ ” McCree continued, trying hard to gather his thoughts and finding the correct words to convey his emotions. It’s so, so hard, “But i think i was more mad that— that i had to find out now, when things are the way it is,”

 

 

Hanzo hummed, but he didn’t say anything. It was an invitation to continue, and that he’ll listen. McCree really loved this man.

 

 

“Like, if i found out about this during Blackwatch era— I mean, not saying i won’t flip out the way i did earlier, but i’ll get over it. Because, because i have a dad, you know? And, and despite everything i said, he’s— well, him back then, was a pretty decent guy. He saved me from being thrown to jail for the rest of my life, Hanzo,” 

 

 

He flipped to his front, letting Hanzo’s knees jab his chest and shoulder. Hanzo took this sudden change in a stride, and runs his hand through McCree’s hair again and continued when the younger man spoke, “I never said it, at least, not to his face, but i owe him my life. He taught me shit i never learned before, being a kid in an arms dealer gang, he pushed me to my limit because he knows i can do better, and i know he’s the enemy now, but at times, even when trying to kill him, i still found myself trying to make him proud. Brandishing tricks he taught me, stuff that i wanted to get good at because it’ll surprise him,” he buried his face to the crevice of Hanzo’s upper thigh, inhaling the deep scent of whatever detergent the older used and the faint scent of sake underneath, “So, i guess that’s why i was so mad,”

 

 

“You are angry you did not have the chance to spend time with him as an actual father and son, rather than a student and a man he looked up to as a father figure,”

 

 

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice muffled against fabric and Hanzo’s thigh muscles, “Yeah, that sounds about right,”

 

 

* * *

 

 

At dinner time, McCree although was given a clean bill of health in the afternoon by Angela, did not appear in the dining room. Yet everyone saw Hanzo taking a double portion for everything, and when he left, nobody questioned him. 

 

 

It had been an awkward ordeal, even without the main star of the latest incident around, and Morrison hadn’t even finished half of his food when he lost his appetite and returned to his bedroom. He tossed his jacket upon entering, took off his visor and lets his eyes adjust to the real world again before he plopped down to bed.

 

 

Its been a tiring day, even more so than the tension from avoiding the world at large, and when McCree failed to appear during dinner, Ana had thrown him looks after looks, none of them which he replied in any way.

 

 

He know he said he’ll wait, that it’s none of his business, but—

 

 

In a minute, he locked down all access to his bedroom; door, windows, even checking if there is anyone around the vicinity. When he was sure, he quickly climbed his bed, opened his drawer and rummaged through the various tools and content before he took out an item that was mangled beyond belief and yet miraculously still works; his old Overwatch comm.

 

 

The screen flickers once in a while when he had it on, a glitch he couldn’t fix by himself and certainly couldn’t ask anyone to help with. He had been given a new one - which in his fit of security measure had been turned off - and he put it inside of the drawer in place of his old one. With trained motion, the white-haired man navigated through options, and selected one he was all too often use these days.

 

 

Looking around, as if afraid that someone was going to pop their head in to his bedroom, Jack lightly tapped the screen and began to speak, “Gabe, it’s me,”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How much longer does it take?”

 

 

He wasn’t met with an answer as much as a withering glare, and he crossed his arms defiantly. How dare she, he’s her superior and he is asking a legitimate question, “Like you could do this better than me,” the person hidden behind the shadow retorted, “Old people always thinks just because technology is advancing, everything will be done in a single touch,”

 

 

“Sombra, _juro por dios_ , i don’t have the patience for your cheek today, i need—”

 

 

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by insistent beeping, and Reaper could feel a pair of eyes staring at him. 

 

 

“Seems like you got something else to do, granddad,”

 

 

It took everything in him not to reach for his shot gun and shot the piece of shit in the head. If only Talon wasn’t in desperate need for a specialist, “When i get back, that shit better be ready, _puta_ ,”

 

 

Instead of giving him an affirmative, the figure smirked, “That wasn’t very nice of you. You should learn how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’,”

 

 

Reaper grumbled and dissolved into thin air.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t need to check what or who may contact him; Gabriel had spent years listening to the same signal, and years after the machine that produced said noise was supposedly broken.

 

 

In the darkness of his room, the comm’s screen was a beacon of light that illuminated his ivory mask, “This better be important, Jack,”

 

 

It was a voice recording, because them calling would be ultimately idiotic and easily overheard, whereas in recordings they could both contact each other on different time and they could ensure their safety beforehand. The screen loaded a verily short message, and Gabriel swore if this is Jack wasting his time about something they found that belong to the old Overwatch…

 

 

The fucking sap. 

 

 

Jack’s voice sounded hesitant when the recording start, “Gabe, it’s me,”

 

 

“Of course it is you, _cabron_ , who the fuck else had this line?” he gruffly replied, even knowing that there would be no reply.

 

 

Jack continued, slowly, as if he was trying to choose his words, “It’s, i have something to tell you, something important,” the recording let out a static, Jack was sighing directly in front of the receiver. He told him not to do that anymore, “Jesse found out, Gabe,”

 

 

The comm was dropped, and it was by quick swipe of heavy mist did it not reach the ground. There is no question about what Jack was talking about.

 

 

While recording, Jack obviously hadn’t taken account of his shock, because he kept on talking, “He got hurt, and we needed a blood transfusion fast before we loose him. Angela made a mistake in her search and accidentally included the old Overwatch, and long story short, the result was clear for everyone to see,”

 

 

Fuck. Fuck he wasn’t ready for this. 

 

 

“He’s angry, obviously, more to me, but it was probably because i was the closest one around,” the man chuckled, “Ana blamed me too, but she had been nice enough to mention she still hold you responsible above else,” the line goes silent, but the indicator shows that he still has a few more minutes worth of words to listen to, “I don’t— I guess i just wanted to say i’m sorry, Gabe,”

 

 

“What for? It wasn’t your fault,” he answered, because that was the only word that can come out of his mouth. 

 

 

“I don’t know what to do. I keep on thinking that you were right, that i should just let Jesse stew it out and deal with you on his own terms, but i can’t,” again, Jack sighed, but the static was not as irritating this time around, “I keep on thinking that you deserve to know, if only because i know you’ve always wanted to tell him about it,”

 

 

“Fuck you Morrison,” Fuck you for being right.

 

 

“That’s about all i wanna say,” the voice continues, “I don’t know how you’ll deal with this, how you want to deal with this, but if it helps,” he stopped, and there was the sound of shuffling somewhere, rustling fabrics. Either it’s Jack’s clothes or he is on his bed, moving, “If it helps, i don’t think he was mad about you being his father at all,”

 

 

Behind his mask, Gabriel smirked sardonically, “Like you’d know anything about character judgement,”

 

 

Jack said his goodbye not long after, and the comm’s screen went dead. Gabriel was still staring at it even when his reflection shows up on the screen.

 

 

“Huh,”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next time McCree saw Reaper on the field, he gave it his all to fight against the pile of shifting mist, dodging bullet and delivering his own. He was far away from his teammates, and their duel had reached a stalemate that was only broken when he decided to use his remaining bullet to, instead of aiming Reaper, shot at the tree he was standing directly under. As predicted, the tree branch fell on top of the cloaked man, and the distraction had been enough for McCree to vault over and gave him a resounding punch to the mask.

 

 

It wasn’t a killing move, like he was supposed to give, and he knows that putting this little distance between himself and his enemy is just calling for trouble.

 

 

But McCree felt nothing but confidence as he stood on top of Reaper’s fallen figure, “That’s for keeping me in the dark for 20 fucking year,”

 

 

Reaper, for his part looked up to him through his mask, and chuckled deeply, warm instead of mocking, with an edge of amusement in his tone, “Quite the quick thinking,” he retorted, “Well done, _mi hijo_ ,”

 

 

Their next encounter had been more bloody, with more deadly intention and less friendliness, much like their interaction prior to this. But if every manoeuvre where McCree bested Reaper through skill and wit alone caused the man to grin in a less bloodthirsty way, or if Reaper sometimes gave a fallen McCree a headstart before started shooting him again, nobody seems to notice.

 

 

From a top of a building, Jack Morrison observed the rest of Talon’s henchmen retreating, and left, deeming that he’s not needed on the field anymore. McCree has asked for them to meet up someplace secluded from the base, and he needed to go get ready both mentally and physically.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Considering the amount of foreign language, if anyone sees any mistake, please don't hesitate to tell me because google and personal knowledge only goes so far.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
